Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/342

 Head that the hand Of a god might have blest, Laid lustrous and bland On the curve of its crest:

Mouth sweeter than cherries Keen eyes as of Mars Browner than berries And brighter than stars.

Nor colour nor wordy Weak song can declare The stature how sturdy, How stalwart his air.

As a king in his bright Presence-chamber may be, So seems he in height— Twice higher than your knee.

As a warrior sedate With reserve of his power, So seems he in state— As tall as a flower:

As a rose overtowering The ranks of the rest That beneath it lie cowering, Less bright than their best